Try {One | Alaric Saltzman}

History Repeating

Abigail looked away from her, unable to find the right expression, just as Alaric approached their table.

"Jeremy!" Alaric exclaimed. "What's up, man?"

"Hey, Mr. Saltzman! This is my aunt, Jenna." He smirked. "And my sister, Abigail, since she seems to think you don't remember who any of us are."

"Alaric Saltzman. It's nice to meet you, Jenna. Abigail," he said her name with a small, amused smile. "I remember."

Abigail put her hands up in defense, whispering to her brother, "How was I supposed to know he remembered?"

"Jeremy was just telling us about his paper," Jenna said, easing the tension between the siblings. "Thanks for giving him another chance."

"It was my first day." He shrugged. "I wanted to make a good impression."

Even though she knew that Elena and Bonnie were waiting for her, Abigail couldn't bring herself to leave the Grill. She stayed where she was, watching as Matt and Tyler played pool with some basketball players'. They won, celebrating with a high five over their competition's heads.

She glanced at the door. It was only a few feet away, practically begging her to go home. But, alone in the darkest corner of the restaurant, sat Alaric Saltzman.

A smile formed on his face as a greeting once she was standing in front of him. "Where did Jeremy and Jenna go?"

"Home," she said. 

"Well, you can sit down," he matched her tone. "If you want to, I mean."

She sat down, settled in her place, and took one last look around before turning back to him.

He did what she had, probably more than once, as he leaned across the table. "So, why'd you stay?"

She reached for her vervain filled necklace, finding it easily. "I, uh, don't really like being home. Not anymore at least."

Slowly, just as she had answered the question, he asked another one, "Why is that?"

"Long answer or short answer?"

"I've got time. Long."

"I'm sure you know that my parents...my parents died in May." She let out a shaky breath. "I felt like nothing would ever be right again; I still feel like that. Being in that house is like being in a time capsule. It's like I'm stuck."

She was surprised when he reached across the table, but when she looked down at their interlocked fingers, something took that away. "It won't be like this forever, Abigail."

For the first time, she believed it.

Her eyes lingered on his ring, finding it foreign and familiar all at once. "Sounds like you know from experience."

"Sometimes-" Pulling his hand away, he cleared his throat. "Sometimes I feel like I'm stuck, too. My wife died."

"Your wife?"

"Yeah, that's always a good conversation stopper," he said almost to himself. "We were young and in love, so we got married. Nobody thought we'd last and, well, they were right."

He finished his bourbon. The glass met the table with a held back strength, one revealed by the whites of his fingers. He left his eyes on her, narrowing them as his lips parted.

"What happened?" She asked. "To your wife?"

"You, me, and the North Carolina police department are all wondering the same thing," he sighed. "It's a cold case."